by Laura Miller
“What about you? You from around here?” The pride seems to feed me a little courage. Though, I already know she ain’t from anywhere around here.
She seems to ponder it for a second before shaking her head no.
I find it funny she has to think about it. And I go about trying to come up with somethin’ clever to say, but nothin’ comes.
“Were you about to swim?” she asks, her eyes roaming my face.
“Uh.” I catch my shirt dangling from the tree, and I lower my head, noticing my unbuttoned jeans. “I was.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you.”
For the first time in my life, I want to scoop a girl right up and feel her soft skin against mine. It’s a new kind of feeling, and it feels kind of weird but also kind of good. I usually know how to play it cool. Well, at least I thought I knew how to play it cool, but damned if I can figure it out now. It’s as if all of a sudden, I’ve forgotten how to be me. I can’t think straight. I just keep thinkin’ about her legs and her pretty eyes. I mean, I’ve dreamed about a moment like this—when a sweet girl shows up out of nowhere and wants to talk to me—all my life. But when I’m finally starin’ the moment right in the face, I have absolutely no flippin’ clue what to do. And instead of doing somethin’ or sayin’ somethin’ else, I just watch her wade deeper into the creek, until her legs are swallowed up by the crystal water and the bottom of her shorts turn a darker shade of blue.
“Well...you comin’?” she asks, lookin’ up at me.
Her soft voice breaks my concentration on her legs.
“It’s nice,” she offers.
I think about it. Hell, why am I even thinking about this? An angel has just asked me to jump into the creek with her, and here I am, sittin’ here thinkin’ about it.
I stand up and quickly start unzipping my jeans but then all of a sudden I change my mind and zip and button them back up. Jeans stay on.
I carefully make my way down the bank next. It’s about a couple yards of rock, dirt and tree stumps all the way down, but I make it to the bottom without an embarrassing incident before I slip slowly into the water.
“Nice, right?” she asks with a pretty smile.
I didn’t even know God made smiles like hers.
“Yeah,” I say, nodding. But I’m not talkin’ about the water necessarily.
“Do you work out?”
“What?” I ask.
“Your abs.”
I follow her eyes to my stomach.
“Oh,” I say, startin’ to laugh. “Mostly just the work part.”
She wrinkles her forehead at first, but then she gives me that off-centered grin again.
“So, where are you from anyway?” I ask, wading into the deeper part, closer to her.
“Nebraska,” she says, and her smile widens. “And Iowa...and Kansas.”
I bob my head twice. “Anywhere else?”
She seems to think about it a little bit more, then shakes her head. “No.”
I smile with her, and I think about askin’ if this is where she’s finally going to stay, but I don’t want to hear her say it isn’t, so I don’t.
“There snakes in this water?” she asks, matter-of-factly.
“Probably,” I say.
I watch her push her lips to one side and then nod her head, and all the while, she stares into the water. Any other girl would have taken off runnin’ at the thought of a snake swimmin’ around her legs. Instead, this girl looks me square in the eyes and doesn’t say another word about it.
“Why are you so sweaty?” she asks.
I wipe my brow with the inside of my hand. “Hay.”
Her eyes rake my body up and down as if she’s studying me or somethin’. She makes me nervous, but I’m too curious about her to care.
“You a farm boy?”
I shrug my shoulders. I can’t tell if she thinks that’s a bad thing or a good thing. “A little, I guess. We live on my grandpa’s farm.”
She keeps her stare on me, until she eventually nods. I still can’t tell if she likes what I said or not, but I do notice her lips movin’ up as if maybe they want to smile or somethin’.
I wade deeper into the creek, which just so happens to be even closer to her. The water creeps up past the top of my jeans. It feels good, but I really could care less about the water anymore. Coolin’ off lost its charm when she showed up.
She moves into the deeper part too. I notice the water slide up past the top of her shorts and dance on a piece of her tan skin not covered by her shirt.
“Okay, on three, we go under,” she says.
“Okay,” I agree. Hell, I think I’d agree to about anything right about now.
“One...two. Three.”
I watch her suck in a big breath of air and then shut her eyes before droppin’ down into the water. And just like that, she becomes a blur of colors. I hold my breath then, shut my eyes tight and do the same.
When I come back up, she’s already smoothing her long wet hair back. There are little beads of water hangin’ all over her smooth skin. I shake my head and wipe my eyes so I can get a better look at her and the way her wet clothes cling to her little body. She can’t be too much over five feet tall. I’m memorizing every piece of her when she suddenly falls back into the water.
“I like it here.” She seems to profess it to the wind or somethin’. Her voice is like my grandma’s freshly churned butter used to be—smooth and rich.
“It’s nice,” she adds.
I smile because I ain’t never been nowhere else. “It’s not so bad.”
Her pretty stare falls back onto me. I can tell she’s thinkin’ again but damned if I can tell what it is she’s thinkin’ about.
“You gonna be back here tomorrow?” she asks.
I nod my head. If she was going to be here, I was going to be here.
“Here,” she says. She lowers her face and slips that shiny, little necklace of hers over her head before she hesitates. “You’re not a thief, are you?”
I smile wider. “No,” I say.
“Well, then, here. To ensure your return.”
She slips the necklace over my neck.
“Aw, you don’t gotta do that. I’ll be...”
“Back,” she finishes my sentence. “I know. You have to return my necklace.”
I just look at her. I think I’m in awe or I’m waiting to realize she’s just a mirage—like when you get too hot and thirsty and you start seeing strange things—like in the movies.
She stands up again. Water slides off her like she’s shedding a translucent layer. And once that layer’s gone, all that’s left is her beautiful skin, which I just can’t seem to get enough of.
I watch her make her way back to the gravel again. My brain is tellin’ me to say somethin’, but my dumb mouth won’t open.
She gets to the little sandy-colored rocks and slips her shoes back on. Then she turns my way and smiles before she takes off up the bank again. I would chase after her if I knew my darn body would cooperate. Instead, I just follow with my eyes her long legs as they carry the best thing that’s ever happened to me out of my sight.
And when I can’t see her anymore, I look down and carefully pick up the piece of the necklace around my neck that’s most shiny. It’s a heart, and it’s made out of tiny, little glass prisms. I turn it over in my fingers and watch the colors dance inside the little heart.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I’m going to be here when the sun comes up, and I’m not leavin’ until I see her again. I don’t care if I have to wait here all day. This girl has just officially stolen my heart—and I didn’t even know I had a heart to steal. And on top of that, I never even got her name.
Chapter Two
Like the Big Muddy?
The next mornin’ I’m up at the crack of dawn. I feed the calves. I put a new bale out for the cows, and I make sure Ace, Grandpa’s dog, has water in his bowl since my grandpa is out visiting his brother all day. On a normal day, those things might have ta
ken me all mornin’ to do, but that’s when I’m piddlin’ around tryin’ to make less work for myself. I learned the longer it takes me to do things, the less work I’m assigned. But there’s no time for piddlin’ today. As soon as I get all my chores done—in record time—I fly down to that creek as if my ass is on fire. Hell, it could be, and I wouldn’t even know it—not today anyway.
I get to its bank, and I look at my watch. It’s 9 a.m. I was pretty sure she wouldn’t be here before now, even though the day is already startin’ to get warm. I packed a lunch. I even packed an extra peanut butter and jelly sandwich for her. I put strawberry jelly on hers because that’s the way my sister likes it, and I figured all girls are about the same. But now I’m thinkin’ I could be wrong on that point because somethin’ tells me this girl’s a little different.
There’s a part of me that thinks I’m crazy. I’m not even sure she’ll show. I pull her necklace out from underneath my tee shirt. I twist the heart to make its prisms catch the sun just right before I squeeze the heart in the palm of my hand. Surely she’ll want her pretty necklace back. I take the heart and tuck it back under my shirt. There’s a nice shade tree where I am next to the creek’s edge. I take a seat under it and stretch out my legs, and at the same time, I rest the brown paper bag on a fallen tree trunk. I suppose if she doesn’t show I could always eat the other sandwich. My mom has this thing about wastin’ food. She says there are kids every day just wishin’ they could eat what she sits in front of us every supper. For a long time growin’ up, I just pictured this clan of kids that lived under a bridge and all they ate was burnt stuff. It took me a little while to figure out what she really meant—and to figure out that not all food is burned to a crisp. But anyway, I’m not plannin’ on wastin’ this lunch, but I also know not seeing her today would kill me, so in the end, I guess the two sandwiches would go to waste anyway.
I refit my cap over my head and take off my work boots and kick ‘em to the side. Then I look down at myself—at my tee shirt and jeans. I’m good, right? The jeans are still pretty clean, and I don’t smell bad—as far as I can tell. I lift up my cap and run my fingers through my hair. Then I squeeze the cap back over my head. Damn, I’m nervous. I pick up a rock and throw it into the creek. Then I find a flat one and skip it into the water too. It jumps and flies three times before it finally sinks. I throw two more rocks into the water and watch them sink before I look around for another one. There ain’t any more around me. I’ve thrown them all in. So instead, I stare at the ripples the hot breeze makes on the water’s surface for a little while before I slide my cap a little more over my eyes. Then I lean back against the dirt and the grass and rest my head in the palm of my hands. The shade feels pretty good. I breathe in the sweet smell of corn growin’ in the next field over, and I close my eyes. And without warning, she pops up on the back of my eyelids. I smile and let out a happy sigh. God, she’s so smokin’ beautiful. I try to remember every inch of her—from her pretty, long hair to her sexy, long legs. And then there’s her eyes—not just the color of them, but there was somethin’ else about them that made her seem fearless or mysterious or somethin’. There was somethin’ about her that made you want to know more. I yawn and feel myself startin’ to drift away just as that hot breeze trickles past my face. And the last thing I remember thinkin’ is that I really hope she shows.
***
I’m not sure how long exactly it’s been when I feel somethin’ tickling my arm. It snaps me awake. I must have fallen asleep. I open my eyes to find a girl with long, brown hair hoverin’ over me. I jump a little—not really because someone’s hoverin’ over me, but because it’s her who’s hoverin’ over me. I feel a little unarmed—as if I’m naked or somethin’.
“I thought you were dead,” she says with a tiny half-smile.
I sit up quickly and glance at my watch. It’s eleven. I slept for nearly two hours. I refit my cap over my head and wipe my eyes only to catch her still starin’ at me.
“Hi,” I say. I try not to sound as nervous as I feel.
She seems to hesitate before she opens her mouth. “Hi.”
“What’s your name?” she asks.
“River.”
She pauses, resting back on her heels.
“Like the Big Muddy?”
I nod. “That would be it. What’s yours?”
“Brooke.”
I smile. “Like a babblin’ brook?”
If I wasn’t payin’ attention like I was, I wouldn’t have noticed her laugh a little. “Almost. Just add an e.”
“I like that name,” I say. It probably was a dumb thing to say, and I had never really thought about that name until just now—I don’t know anybody by it. But I wasn’t lyin’ either. As of today, Brooke is the most beautiful name I’ve ever heard.
“Thanks,” she says.
She sits back on the ground and brings her knees to her chest. I watch her for a moment, but I avoid her eyes. Her eyes still make me nervous.
“Why do you move around so much?” I ask.
She tucks her hair behind her ears and turns her gaze my way, forcing me to make eye contact. “My dad sells seed.”
“Seed?” I ask.
She’s already turned her attention to somethin’ else. I watch her manage to find a small rock I must have missed. She turns it over in her hand and then tosses it into the water. “Yeah,” she says. “And once he’s sold it to everyone he can sell it to in one place, we move to another.”
I survey her face. There’s not a trace of emotion written on it. It makes it harder to figure out what to say. “That’s pretty cool.”
“Yeah,” she says, quietly. “But moving sucks. I think it’s what they do in hell.”
What? I don’t think I’ve ever heard a girl say hell before. I picture a bunch of little devils movin’ chairs and tables with pitchforks. And the chairs are on fire, of course. Then I catch her pretty stare.
“I’m sorry you have to move so much.” And I was sorry—sorrier than I think she knew.
She shrugs her shoulders. “I guess you just gotta take what life throws at ya.” Her light eyes find mine. “You get used to it. But you do lose a lot of stuff.”
“Like friends?” I ask, grabbin’ a short stick off the ground.
She looks sad all of a sudden. “Yeah...And other things.”
I tilt my head a little to the side. “Like what?”
Her chest rises and then gradually falls. “Like there was this one sweater that I really liked. I have no idea where it is now.”
I poke the ground with the end of the stick. I guess when you’re a girl, a sweater’s a big deal, so I nod my head in a desperate attempt to show some sympathy. I guess if I lost my work boots, I’d be pretty pissed. But then, maybe I wouldn’t have to work.
I dig the stick deeper into the dirt.
“And I had this stuffed animal,” she goes on, breaking my thoughts. “It was my favorite when I was really little, so that’s why I’m sad I can’t find it. I’ve looked everywhere.”
She still looks sad and maybe a little embarrassed now. I don’t want her to feel either.
“What kind of an animal was it?” I ask.
She gazes up at me through her long eyelashes, as if I’m the only one in the world worth lookin’ at—or maybe that’s just my wishful thinkin’. A girl’s never looked at me like that before. I don’t know what it is about it, but it makes my breaths short and my smile awkward.
“Don’t laugh,” she pleads.
“I won’t,” I manage to say.
She glances at the ground and then back up at me.
“Winnie-the-Pooh. My grandma gave it to me.”
I take a second to parade every bear that’s stuffed into Rea’s toy box through my mind, until something sticks.
“Isn’t that the yellow one that eats honey?” Thank God for sisters.
She nods.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
She takes a breath and then lets go of it, as if she n
ever wanted the breath in the first place. “It’s okay. Maybe I’ll find it later. Or maybe it dropped off the truck, and some little girl who didn’t have any toys found it. My mom says there’s a lot of kids that don’t have any toys.”
I nod. “That’s what my mom says about burnt food.”
She looks at me sideways.
“Maybe,” I offer then, smilin’ to myself. “Maybe a girl with no toys found it.”
She keeps her sideways stare on me for another few heartbeats before she eventually lowers her eyes and bobs her head in agreement. Then, we’re both quiet. I steal a glance at her bare legs. They’re tan and still just as long as they were yesterday. And she has the same kind of little jean shorts on today that she had on yesterday too. I silently send up a thankful prayer. I never realized how much I liked little jean shorts.
“Why do you think they call him Winnie-the-Pooh?” she asks, breaking my concentration on her legs. I quickly send my gaze to the water, hopin’ she didn’t notice me starin’.
I think about it for a few seconds before I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know,” I say, honestly.
“There’s not an animal called a pooh, right?” she asks.
I gnaw on my bottom lip. There was a dodo bird, and there’s a blobfish and a booby. I laugh on the inside. That last one always cracks me up. “Naw,” I say instead. “I don’t think there’s a pooh.”
She pushes her lips to one side as if she’s thinking. “It’s hot,” she says after a moment. “Let’s go swimming.”
She stands up suddenly and starts shimmying off her little shorts. I instinctively close my eyes before I see somethin’ she doesn’t want me to see, but then I can’t help but slide one eyelid cautiously open. She takes off her little top next, and I notice she has a swimsuit top on underneath it. I breathe a sigh of relief, but I’m not altogether sure why. And in no time, both eyes pop open, and I can’t seem to tear my stare away from her. Every piece of her is perfection. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“You comin’?” she asks, looking back at me.